Next, after this perambulating skeleton, came the weirdest creature I have ever beheld. He was a twisted oaf of a man. Face and body were twisted as with the pain of a thousand years of torture. His was the face of an ill-treated and feeble-minded faun. His large black eyes were bright, eager, and filled with pain; and they flashed questioningly from face to face and to everything about. They were so pitifully alert, those eyes, as if for ever astrain to catch the clue to some perplexing and threatening enigma. Not until afterwards did I learn the cause of this. He was stone deaf, having had his ear-drums destroyed in the boiler explosion which had wrecked the rest of him.
I noticed the steward, standing at the galley door and watching the men from a distance. His keen, Asiatic face, quick with intelligence, was a relief to the eye, as was the vivid face of Shorty, who came out of the forecastle with a leap and a gurgle of laughter. But there was something wrong with him, too. He was a dwarf, and, as I was to come to know, his high spirits and low mentality united to make him a clown.
Mr. Pike stopped beside me a moment and while he watched the men I watched him. The expression on his face was that of a cattle-buyer, and it was plain that he was disgusted with the quality of cattle delivered.
Something the matter with the last mothers son of them, he growled.
And still they came: one, pallid, furtive-eyed, that I instantly adjudged a drug fiend; another, a tiny, wizened old man, pinch-faced and wrinkled, with beady, malevolent blue eyes; a third, a small, well-fleshed man, who seemed to my eye the most normal and least unintelligent specimen that had yet appeared. But Mr. Pikes eye was better trained than mine.
Whats the matter with you? he snarled at the man.
Nothing, sir, the fellow answered, stopping immediately.
Whats your name?
Mr. Pike never spoke to a sailor save with a snarl.
Charles Davis, sir.
What are you limping about?
I aint limpin, sir, the man answered respectfully, and, at a nod of dismissal from the mate, marched off jauntily along the deck with a heodlum swing to the shoulders.
Hes a sailor all right, the mate grumbled; but Ill bet you a pound of tobacco or a months wages theres something wrong with him.
The forecastle now seemed empty, but the mate turned on the bosuns with his customary snarl.
What in hell are you doing? Sleeping? Think this is a rest cure? Get in there an rustle em out!
Sundry Buyers pressed his abdomen gingerly and hesitated, while Nancy, his face one dogged, long-suffering bleakness, reluctantly entered the forecastle. Then, from inside, we heard oaths, vile and filthy, urgings and expostulations on the part of Nancy, meekly and pleadingly uttered.
I noted the grim and savage look that came on Mr. Pikes face, and was prepared for I knew not what awful monstrosities to emerge from the forecastle. Instead, to my surprise, came three fellows who were strikingly superior to the ruck that had preceded them. I looked to see the mates face soften to some sort of approval. On the contrary, his blue eyes contracted to narrow slits, the snarl of his voice was communicated to his lips, so that he seemed like a dog about to bite.
But the three fellows. They were small men, all; and young men, anywhere between twenty-five and thirty. Though roughly dressed, they were well dressed, and under their clothes their bodily movements showed physical well-being. Their faces were keen cut, intelligent. And though I felt there was something queer about them, I could not divine what it was.
Here were no ill-fed, whiskey-poisoned men, such as the rest of the sailors, who, having drunk up their last pay-days, had starved ashore until they had received and drunk up their advance money for the present voyage. These three, on the other hand were supple and vigorous. Their movements were spontaneously quick and accurate. Perhaps it was the way they looked at me, with incurious yet calculating eyes that nothing escaped. They seemed so worldly wise, so indifferent, so sure of themselves. I was confident they were not sailors. Yet, as shore-dwellers, I could not place them. They were a type I had never encountered. Possibly I can give a better idea of them by describing what occurred.
As they passed before us they favoured Mr. Pike with the same indifferent, keen glances they gave me.
Whats your name you? Mr. Pike barked at the first of the trio, evidently a hybrid Irish-Jew. Jewish his nose unmistakably was. Equally unmistakable was the Irish of his eyes, and jaw, and upper lip.
The three had immediately stopped, and, though they did not look directly at one another, they seemed to be holding a silent conference. Another of the trio, in whose veins ran God alone knows what Semitic, Babylonish and Latin strains, gave a warning signal. Oh, nothing so crass as a wink or a nod. I almost doubted that I had intercepted it, and yet I knew he had communicated a warning to his fellows. More a shade of expression that had crossed his eyes, or a glint in them of sudden light or whatever it was, it carried the message.
Murphy, the other answered the mate.
Sir! Mr. Pike snarled at him.
Murphy shrugged his shoulders in token that he did not understand. It was the poise of the man, of the three of them, the cool poise that impressed me.
When you address any officer on this ship youll say sir, Mr. Pike explained, his voice as harsh as his face was forbidding. Did you get that?
Yes.. sir, Murphy drawled with deliberate slowness. I gotcha.
Sir! Mr. Pike roared.
Sir, Murphy answered, so softly and carelessly that it irritated the mate to further bullyragging.
Well, Murphys too long, he announced. Noseyll do you aboard this craft. Got that?
I gotcha.. sir, came the reply, insolent in its very softness and unconcern. Nosey Murphy goes.. sir.
And then he laughed the three of them laughed, if laughter it might be called that was laughter without sound or facial movement. The eyes alone laughed, mirthlessly and cold-bloodedly.
Certainly Mr. Pike was not enjoying himself with these baffling personalities. He turned upon the leader, the one who had given the warning and who looked the admixture of all that was Mediterranean and Semitic.
Whats your name?
Bert Rhine.. sir, was the reply, in tones as soft and careless and silkily irritating as the others.
And you? this to the remaining one, the youngest of the trio, a dark-eyed, olive-skinned fellow with a face most striking in its cameo-like beauty. American-born, I placed him, of immigrants from Southern Italy from Naples, or even Sicily.
Twist.. sir, he answered, precisely in the same manner as the others.
Too long, the mate sneered. The Kidll do you. Got that?
I gotcha.. sir. Kid Twistll do me.. sir.
Kidll do!
Kid.. sir.
And the three laughed their silent, mirthless laugh. By this time Mr. Pike was beside himself with a rage that could find no excuse for action.
Now Im going to tell you something, the bunch of you, for the good of your health. The mates voice grated with the rage he was suppressing. I know your kind. Youre dirt. Dye get that? Youre dirt. And on this ship youll be treated as dirt. Youll do your work like men, or Ill know the reason why. The first time one of you bats an eye, or even looks like batting an eye, he gets his. Dye get that? Now get out. Get along forard to the windlass.
Twist.. sir, he answered, precisely in the same manner as the others.
Too long, the mate sneered. The Kidll do you. Got that?
I gotcha.. sir. Kid Twistll do me.. sir.
Kidll do!
Kid.. sir.
And the three laughed their silent, mirthless laugh. By this time Mr. Pike was beside himself with a rage that could find no excuse for action.
Now Im going to tell you something, the bunch of you, for the good of your health. The mates voice grated with the rage he was suppressing. I know your kind. Youre dirt. Dye get that? Youre dirt. And on this ship youll be treated as dirt. Youll do your work like men, or Ill know the reason why. The first time one of you bats an eye, or even looks like batting an eye, he gets his. Dye get that? Now get out. Get along forard to the windlass.
Mr. Pike turned on his heel, and I swung alongside of him as he moved aft.
What do you make of them? I queried.
The limit, he grunted. I know their kidney. Theyve done time, the three of them. Theyre just plain sweepings of hell
Here his speech was broken off by the spectacle that greeted him on Number Two hatch. Sprawled out on the hatch were five or six men, among them Larry, the tatterdemalion who had called him old stiff earlier in the afternoon. That Larry had not obeyed orders was patent, for he was sitting with his back propped against his sea-bag, which ought to have been in the forecastle. Also, he and the group with him ought to have been forard manning the windlass.
The mate stepped upon the hatch and towered over the man.
Get up, he ordered.
Larry made an effort, groaned, and failed to get up.
I cant, he said.
Sir!
I cant, sir. I was drunk last night an slept in Jefferson Market. An this mornin I was froze tight, sir. They had to pry me loose.
Stiff with the cold you were, eh? the mate grinned.
Its well ye might say it, sir, Larry answered.
And you feel like an old stiff, eh?
Larry blinked with the troubled, querulous eyes of a monkey. He was beginning to apprehend he knew not what, and he knew that bending over him was a man-master.
Well, Ill just be showin you what an old stiff feels like, anyways. Mr. Pike mimicked the others brogue.
And now I shall tell what I saw happen. Please remember what I have said of the huge paws of Mr. Pike, the fingers much longer than mine and twice as thick, the wrists massive-boned, the arm-bones and the shoulder-bones of the same massive order. With one flip of his right hand, with what I might call an open-handed, lifting, upward slap, save that it was the ends of the fingers only that touched Larrys face, he lifted Larry into the air, sprawling him backward on his back across his sea-bag.
The man alongside of Larry emitted a menacing growl and started to spring belligerently to his feet. But he never reached his feet. Mr. Pike, with the back of same right hand, open, smote the man on the side of the face. The loud smack of the impact was startling. The mates strength was amazing. The blow looked so easy, so effortless; it had seemed like the lazy stroke of a good-natured bear, but in it was such a weight of bone and muscle that the man went down sidewise and rolled off the hatch on to the deck.
At this moment, lurching aimlessly along, appeared OSullivan. A sudden access of muttering, on his part, reached Mr. Pikes ear, and Mr. Pike, instantly keen as a wild animal, his paw in the act of striking OSullivan, whipped out like a revolver shot, Whats that? Then he noted the sense-struck face of OSullivan and withheld the blow. Bug-house, Mr. Pike commented.
Involuntarily I had glanced to see if Captain West was on the poop, and found that we were hidden from the poop by the midship house.
Mr. Pike, taking no notice of the man who lay groaning on the deck, stood over Larry, who was likewise groaning. The rest of the sprawling men were on their feet, subdued and respectful. I, too, was respectful of this terrific, aged figure of a man. The exhibition had quite convinced me of the verity of his earlier driving and killing days.
Whos the old stiff now? he demanded.
Tis me, sir, Larry moaned contritely.
Get up!
Larry got up without any difficulty at all.
Now get forard to the windlass! The rest of you!
And they went, sullenly, shamblingly, like the cowed brutes they were.
CHAPTER VI
I climbed the ladder on the side of the forard house (which house contained, as I discovered, the forecastle, the galley, and the donkey-engine room), and went part way along the bridge to a position by the foremast, where I could observe the crew heaving up anchor. The Britannia was alongside, and we were getting under way.
A considerable body of men was walking around with the windlass or variously engaged on the forecastle-head. Of the crew proper were two watches of fifteen men each. In addition were sailmakers, boys, bosuns, and the carpenter. Nearly forty men were they, but such men! They were sad and lifeless. There was no vim, no go, no activity. Every step and movement was an effort, as if they were dead men raised out of coffins or sick men dragged from hospital beds. Sick they were whiskey-poisoned. Starved they were, and weak from poor nutrition. And worst of all, they were imbecile and lunatic.
I looked aloft at the intricate ropes, at the steel masts rising and carrying huge yards of steel, rising higher and higher, until steel masts and yards gave way to slender spars of wood, while ropes and stays turned into a delicate tracery of spider-thread against the sky. That such a wretched muck of men should be able to work this magnificent ship through all storm and darkness and peril of the sea was beyond all seeming. I remembered the two mates, the super-efficiency, mental and physical, of Mr. Mellaire and Mr. Pike could they make this human wreckage do it? They, at least, evinced no doubts of their ability. The sea? If this feat of mastery were possible, then clear it was that I knew nothing of the sea.
I looked back at the misshapen, starved, sick, stumbling hulks of men who trod the dreary round of the windlass. Mr. Pike was right. These were not the brisk, devilish, able-bodied men who manned the ships of the old clipper-ship days; who fought their officers, who had the points of their sheath-knives broken off, who killed and were killed, but who did their work as men. These men, these shambling carcasses at the windlass I looked, and looked, and vainly I strove to conjure the vision of them swinging aloft in rack and storm, clearing the raffle, as Kipling puts it, with their clasp knives in their teeth. Why didnt they sing a chanty as they hove the anchor up? In the old days, as I had read, the anchor always came up to the rollicking sailor songs of sea-chested men.
I tired of watching the spiritless performance, and went aft on an exploring trip along the slender bridge. It was a beautiful structure, strong yet light, traversing the length of the ship in three aerial leaps. It spanned from the forecastle-head to the forecastle-house, next to the midship house, and then to the poop. The poop, which was really the roof or deck over all the cabin space below, and which occupied the whole after-part of the ship, was very large. It was broken only by the half-round and half-covered wheel-house at the very stern and by the chart-house. On either side of the latter two doors opened into a tiny hallway. This, in turn, gave access to the chart-room and to a stairway that led down into the cabin quarters beneath.